My Amoeba Just Farted
by Celixir
Summary: As part of his punishment for trying to take over the world, Loki is sent to accompany Thor to a Midgardian university to look after Jane Foster, at the behest of S.H.I.E.L.D.


"希望と絶望のバランスは差し引きゼロだって、いつだったか、あんたは言ってたよね。  
今ならそれ、よく分かるよ。  
確かに私は、何人か救いもしたけどさ、だけどその分、心には恨みや妬みが溜まって、  
一番大切な友達さえ傷付けて。  
誰かの幸せを祈った分、他の誰かを呪わずにはいられない。  
私達魔法少女って、そういう仕組みだったんだね。

私って、本当馬鹿。"

["The balance of hope and despair comes out to zero"; that's what you told me at one point or another. Now I think I understand. Certainly, I saved a few people; but at the same time, my heart began to become filled with hatred and envy, so much so that I even hurt my best friend. As much happiness as we wish for on one person, we can't help but curse someone else. That's how it works for us Magical Girls.

I really was such a fool.]

—Sayaka Miki, _Puella Magi Madoka Magica_

* * *

A great Japanese poet once said, "It's rather sad if the most brilliant period in a person's life is something that he has to look back on." Thus spake Hamasaki Ayumi of Fukuoka Prefecture, and Loki Laufeyson of Asgard was wont to agree. His last foray into carving a name for himself had ended quite badly, and to compound the humiliation of the situation, his father had forced him, as punishment, to "do community service", a vague task with no set deadlines, which meant that Loki would probably be "doing community service" for some indefinite period. There were no specifics given, either, so Loki figured that at least he could make this as light on himself as possible by reading to the residents of the local retirement home or teaching them how to fart the second movement of the New World Symphony.

But then one day, Odin, king of Asgard and father of Loki, produced specifics.

"That mortal your brother has become attached to, Jane Foster, needs his—and your— protection."

"She seems quite capable of looking after herself," replied Loki, who was in no mood to be around Jane when Jane was around Thor.

"She's working at the University of New Mexico on a post-doctoral project involving the mapping of possible portals between realms as modeled by Laplace transformations," said Odin, paying no heed to Loki's comments. "This assignment is not actually from me, but from a man named Fury—I think you've met him; I gave him my permission to assign you to whatever task he felt necessary."

"What about _my_ permission?" Loki rejoined.

"Felons don't get a say in their sentences," said Odin, wagging at his adopted son the collectible Puella Magi Madoka Magica mechanical pencil he had been using to write in his collectible Puella Magi Madoka Magica Day-Planner.

* * *

"You will be going undercover as students at the university," said the man named Fury. "There's just one thing, though. The University has become quite … avant-garde, shall we say, in their educational philosophy. Now you two will have to take the school's entrance examination.

"Here's how it works: all students, regardless of major and/or AP/IB credits, are placed into one of six classes depending on their performance on the entrance examination. The highest scoring are placed into class A, and so on down—B, C, D, E—until class F."

Fury handed Thor and Loki their student ID cards.

"Any questions?"

"Yes, what are we majoring in?"

"Oh yes. Thor, you will be a physics major, and Loki, you will be in the pre-med track as an Underwater Basketweaving major."

* * *

We shall jump ahead in time, past all the tedious getting-in processes that Thor and Loki had to go through, and skip right ahead to what everyone wants to know: the test results.

"You know, I admit I had my doubts when you joined the Avengers," said Fury. "I thought you two were idiots. But no more! I saw your test results."

Thor and Loki anxiously ripped open the legal-sized envelopes with the test results. Hands shaking, they pulled the stapled pages out, and …

"Now I _know_ you two are idiots!" continued Fury. "You both placed into class F!"

Thor and Loki just stared at each other, unsure of how to respond.

"Well, it doesn't matter, really," said Thor after a minute or two of silence. "So long as we can keep an eye on Jane."

"We had _planned_ on you two doing undergraduate research and becoming Jane's assistants, but that's only open to people who place into at least class C! I had no idea you two were such poop heads!" screamed Fury, living quite up to his name. The three stood there in silence, Thor and Loki staring at each other, and Fury breathing heavily as he tried to keep himself from hyperventilating. Finally, after yet another awkward silence …

"We'll go shopping for school supplies on Saturday."

* * *

"This is Feces Hall," said Fury the Monday before the semester started. "Instead of being segregated by subject, the halls on this campus are divided by class. Therefore, all F-class students take all classes—regardless of whether it is math or science or humanities or whatever—here. Well, I would love to stay and chat—actually, no, I wouldn't—but I have to go now. Top-secret stuff. Don't get lost or anything." With that, Fury spun around and walked away across the quad.

"Well, I guess I'll go find where my Introduction to Differential Equations class is," said Thor, scanning his class schedule.

"And I'll go find the restroom," said Loki. "I think I got dysentery from those sushi tacos we got from that food cart."

The brothers met up two hours later in the cafeteria.

"Midgardians!" spat Loki, unwrapping a sandwich which (he hoped) didn't have any intestine-debilitating protists. "There was a conclave of girls in the women's lavatory, laughing and passing gas while they traded wampum beads and animal furs! I have never seen such strange customs in my life!"

"Loki …" said Thor. "How did you know what was going on in the women's bathroom?"

"Believe this or not," said Loki, "but the two restrooms are actually open to each other by a narrow passageway. In fact, one of the girls actually came up to my stall while I was … um, tending to my affairs and knocked and asked me if I had any smokes!"

"I know this is only my third time on Midgard, but I never saw anything like that my first two times here," said Thor between forkfuls of macaroni and cheese. "But then again, the first time I was here, I was trying to fight off a robot that you sent to kill me, and the second time, I was trying to fight off aliens from another dimension that you sent to destroy New York."

"Must you always dwell on the past?" said Loki irritably. "Anyways, I also went to find where my biology class will be, and guess what? The laboratory is also a Chinese bakery and a whorehouse!"

"Budget cuts," said Thor. "I guess it's like having a bake sale."

* * *

The first week of the semester came, and on Friday evening, Loki found himself swamped with homework.

"Thor, you're a physics major. Help me with my calculus homework," said Loki.

"Which one are you having problems with?" said Thor.

"Number seventeen."

"Three plus six? Hmm, that's a tough one," said Thor with a nod. He pulled up a chair and sat down beside Loki. "But really, it just boils down to a simple integration problem. Just draw a little 'x'—that means 'multiply'—and put the three on this side and the numerator—that's Latin for 'number eighter'—on this side. Now what times three equals six? The answer, of course, is eight."

"Sweet Odin have mercy. There is no way I'm going to pass my midterms," muttered Loki as he eyed the rest of the problems on his homework set.

"I doubt the dorms for the F class are up to safety standards," said Thor, scanning the room. "The cafeteria ladies in the dining hall don't wear hairnets, there are no carbon monoxide detectors in the bedrooms, and all the toilets here empty into a big underground nuclear reactor, and now I'm pretty sure I know where those hyper-intelligent radioactive zombie mutant feces golems I heard about in the news two weeks ago came from."

"Well, if they're hyper-intelligent, maybe they can help me with my homework," said Loki.

* * *

"Loki, do you know what I just found out?" said Thor at lunch one week later. "If we get at least a B average in our midterms, we can be promoted to class C! That means we can become Jane's research assistants!"

"Hence the 'Linear Algebra for Nincompoops'," said Loki, glancing at the book Thor had plopped on the table.

"I hate my linear algebra professor," said Thor, his mood suddenly souring. "That man can't teach, he plays favorites, he's an excessively picky grader, and whenever he has to pass gas, instead of excusing himself from the room or holding it it, he bends over and lets it rip. Then he sighs really loudly and blows his nose to finish it off. I think four of the people in the front row have developed asthma recently, and I'm pretty sure that's no coincidence.

"We never learned how to deal with such situations on Asgard," Thor continued, now talking more to himself than to Loki. "Fighting Frost Giants, yes, dealing with the stress of two math classes, a physics class, and two gen-ed classes, no."

"Well, like my advisor said," said Loki, "you've got to find a way to balance work and play. You can't be studying all the time—you'll burn yourself out. Maybe you should join a club or something."

"And for some reason, even though he's lactose intolerant, he insists on having grilled cheese sandwiches, a carton of yogurt, and a large chocolate milkshake for lunch right before class!" said Thor.

* * *

"Well, I decided to join the drama club," said Thor. "It gives me a way to get my mind off of physics."

"Mm," said Loki.

"I had no idea Midgardians had such a fine sense of drama! I was captivated the minute I read the script. That Midgardians could capture the nuance and detail of such deep and universal themes—I am truly impressed!" said Thor.

"Shakespeare?" said Loki. "Oh, tell me you're putting on _Henry IV_. Good ol' Prince Hal."

"Actually, we're putting on one of those modern ones. Existential angst, coping with the trauma of a loss of cohesive moral structure in a post-modern society."

"Those are good too. Which one is it?" asked Loki.

"_Nutrition and the Four Food Groups_."

"Yes, _Cat on a Hot Tin Roof_ would just be too bourgeois," said Loki.

"I'm playing an onion," said Thor.

"For some reason, that seems very fitting," said Loki, turning his attention back to his book.

* * *

The next Friday night found Loki stuck in his room again doing homework.

"Thor, help me with this problem," said Loki, chewing his pencil's eraser. "What's four plus eight?"

"Hmm, that's a tricky one," said Thor. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I think you need eigenvectors and imaginary numbers for that one."

"Imaginary numbers!?" exclaimed Loki.

"Yeah, like eleventeen and thirty-twelve, that kind of stuff."

"Sweet Odin have mercy, there's no way I'm going to pass this class," muttered Loki.

At that moment Tony Stark popped his head in through the doorway.

"And if you don't … it's remedial class for you!"

"Iron Man!?" cried Loki in consternation.

"I'm late for rehearsals!" gasped Thor.

* * *

"I've punched up my lines a little," announced Thor at dinner five days later. "See, there's this one line where I'm supposed to say, 'Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin new reap'd/Showed like a stubble-land at harvest-home;/He was perfumed like a milliner/And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held/A pouncet-box, which ever and anon/He gave his nose and took 't away again.' But I replaced it with 'His farts sounded like beetles screaming.'"

Loki raised an eyebrow. "Is that from _Henry IV_?"

"The part about the beetles screaming? No, I made that up. I'm adding my own flair to the role. Very Anthony Hopkins, wouldn't you say?"

"Whatever gets you through the day," said Loki, prodding his tuna casserole.

* * *

That Saturday, Odin surprised his sons by taking them out to Billy Bob's Sushi Outhouse and Fishing Tackle, the new Japanese restaurant that had recently opened up near the campus.

"I thought we would eat here before the health department shuts it down," he explained.

Seated at a booth and Nebraska rolls ("like California rolls, except with fried chicken instead of crab") served, Odin began inquiring about college life.

"I've joined the drama club," said Thor. "We're putting on _Nutrition and the Four Food Groups_."

"Hmm, that must be a new one," said Odin. "I stopped reading Midgardian plays after Ibsen."

"Will you be able to come to opening night, Father?" asked Thor. "I can get you front-row seats."

"I'm afraid not," said Odin. "We're having a little problem with Dark Elves, so I must remain in Asgard, but maybe you can recite one of your lines for me."

"Okay, um … 'In addition …' No, wait … um … 'In addition to supplying …' Uh, what was it again? 'In addition to supplying many vital nutrients', yes, that's right. Wait, hold on. …"

"Twenty-five college-aged kids in food costumes, forgetting their lines. Yes, I will certainly be on Asgard that day," muttered Odin to himself.

"I think I have diarrhea," announced Loki.

"Everyone clear out!" screamed a waitress. "The people from the Health Department are here again!"

"But I didn't even get to taste my sushi!" cried Thor.

"Count your blessings," muttered Loki.

"Oh, and by the way, sir, here's your bill," added the screaming waitress to Odin as she hurriedly tried to help the busboys dispose of any evidence that a restaurant was being run on the premises.

"They charged us for the water?" growled Odin as he opened his collectible Puella Magi Madoka Magica wallet.

* * *

The next month found Loki struggling to keep his eyelids open as his biology professor droned on about the amoebae they would be studying in lab.

"The coverslips are in the box in the back, and remember, any condoms you find lying around, please throw them in the hazardous waste bin. … Loki! No sleeping in lab!"

Loki muttered something incomprehensible, got up, and shuffled to the bench in the back of the lab where thirty-something students were bunched up, trying to get slides, amoebae, and coverslips. After he had muscled his way through the madness and made a suitable slide, Loki returned to his lab bench, set the slide on his microscope's stage, and began the long and tedious task of observing and recording his amoebae's behavior. There was something hypnotic about watching the amoeba ooze around in the water, and Loki felt his eyelids begin to droop again. …

"My amoeba farted!" Loki bolted upright. Had he really observed something (presumably) heretofore unobserved? Had his amoeba really farted? He could have sworn he not only saw but heard it. Impossible. … It must have been a dream. He glanced around sheepishly. His lab-bench-mates were staring at him.

"What, you've never seen an amoeba fart before?" growled Loki irritably. He turned red and quickly pressed his eyes up against the eyepieces.

There was a sudden bang; the door had been kicked down, and a giant onion had burst into the lab. Loki blinked. This time, he knew he was not dreaming.

"Loki! Loki! I'm stuck in my costume! My zipper's caught!" cried the onion.

"Oh, for—! All right, I'll cut it—stand still! Why are you hopping around?"

"Somebody put something in my underwear! My loins are on fire!"

"Well, I can't do anything if you don't stand still!"

"Hey, watch it! That's twelve-molar HCl over there!" yelled the professor to the dancing onion.

"What? EEEEEEYOOOWWWWWWWWWTCH!"

"Now you've got third-degree chemical burns on top of that. I told you to stand still! All right, I've got the scissors, if you'll just—"

"AAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYY CARUMBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

"I _told _you to stand—Thor! You're going to—"

"Fall out the open window" was what Loki was going to say.

* * *

"I can honestly say that that was the first play I've ever seen with an onion on crutches," said Loki as he and his brother slowly made their way back across the campus to their dorm. The sun had just begun to set, casting long, warm shadows across the ground.

"The director had some interesting choices for the music. I don't even know what those sounds were," said Thor.

"As it turns out, there really are farting amoebae," said Loki. "You know those big underground nuclear reactors that our toilets empty into? That's where they originated. And the physics department had some device that amplifies the sound of the amoebae's farts. Did you recognize the tune? The amoebae were farting the second movement of the New World Symphony."

"At this rate, we'll never get to be near Jane," sighed Thor. He turned to Loki. "Where did you get that backpack, by the way?"

"You mean my collectible Puella Magi Madoka Magica backpack? I had to buy a new one since you knocked over a Bunsen burner and set my old one on fire when you got stuck in your onion costume and started jumping all over the place."

"Being an Avenger is suffering," sighed Thor.

"Tonight is macaroni-and-canned-meat-product night at the dining halls," said Loki.

"But there are bright spots," said Thor quickly.

**The End**


End file.
